


we've got obsessions

by hajiiwa



Series: sheith angst week 2018 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day Four: Betrayal, Day Two: Hallucinations, Deceit, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Experimentation, M/M, Patient Keith, Scientist Shiro, Sheith Angst Week 2018, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajiiwa/pseuds/hajiiwa
Summary: The feed shows Keith lying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His breathing is heavy and labored from exertion and as usual, it doesn’t take him long to drift into a state of unconsciousness.It starts slow. Similar to how it had before it starts with slight distortions of the colors of the walls, the texture of Keith’s surroundings. The boy turns in his sleep and a grin spreads over Shiro’s face, eyes glimmering excitedly. “Come on, Keith,” he says to himself. “Give me something good.”





	we've got obsessions

**Author's Note:**

> this work will include both day 2 & day 4 bc i will be very busy on the latter!
> 
> shoutout to meagan for forcing me to finish this jkhadjh
> 
> trigger warning: violence (not incredibly graphic), a final scene that could be interpreted as death. i just spoiled my own fic. have fun kids this one is a doozy

Keith radiates power.

It drips from every fiber of his being, even when he’s collapsed onto his knees and panting, his throat raw from screams. The energy just pulses out from him, fascinating and endless.

Shiro is enraptured. He’s obsessed.

Keith sits across from him now. They’re inches apart on his thin twin bed, barely enough to contain his strong, sprawling limbs. Shiro licks his lips.

“Are you there?” he asks. Keith didn’t like delving into his own mind, didn’t like the way it resisted against his prodding, but he would when Shiro asked.

He nods. “I’m there.”

“Good.” Shiro shifts the clipboard resting on his knee, reaching up to brush some hair away from Keith’s face. “How do you feel?”

The young man frowns. “Tired,” he says. “Shiro, I just can’t…”

“You  _ can _ .” Shiro’s hand slides down to one of Keith’s own and squeezes encouragingly. “You can do this, Keith. Just keep talking to me.”

He sighs. His eyes are weighed down with dark circles and his skin, so pale and soft, glows faintly under the light from the ceiling. “Okay, Shiro,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”

Shiro’s heart warms-- he was the only one Keith trusted with this. He shuffles in closer. “Picture where you grew up, Keith,” he says. “You said you grew up on a farmhouse?”

“Out in the desert.” The walls around them, plain and grey, flicker. “Lots of land. The main house burned down.”

“Were you there?”

“Yeah. I was young, though.” Shades of pink and orange lick at the plaster nearest to the bed. “I remember the heat on my face. I thought I was going to die.”

The light above them goes out. Shiro spares a glance up at it. “Picture the heat, Keith,” he says, concentrating hard to try and pick up any changes of temperature. “Really focus.”

Keith flinches. “It hurts.”

“I know it does.”

He’s strong. Shiro closes his eyes and tries to feel the heat Keith is beginning to. “Make me feel it, Keith. Make it  _ real _ .”

Keith’s breathing has an audible hitch before it picks up in panic. “It’s so hot, Shiro,” he whimpers, voice strangled and scared. Light flashes and Shiro is quick to open his eyes-- the light is still out but somehow the room is glowing furious reds. “I-I can’t-- I can’t hold it. I can’t do this!”

“Focus, Keith,” says Shiro in a sharp tone, “I know you hurt, but they’re going to get mad if you don’t make any progress.”

“Fuck them!” he cries out, brow furrowed in pain. “Fuck them, I-I-- it’s under my skin, it’s in my eyes, my hair, my  _ heart _ \--”

The walls burst into brilliant, smoking flecks, a sign of defeat. Shiro sighs quietly as Keith gasps and grips onto his hand, eyes flying open. The colors settle and Keith crumples forward into his chest, shoulders shaking with strained little sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I can’t do it. It hurts too much.”

“I know. I pushed you too hard, didn’t I, baby?” Shiro’s other hand, the one scarred and rough, runs gentle through Keith’s hair. “I’m very sorry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Keith’s face pushes into the junction of his shoulder and neck. His cheeks are wet-- moisture rubs off onto Shiro’s bare skin. He pulls away just enough to cup Keith’s face in both of his hands, leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose. “We can try again when you’re ready. Get some rest now, Keith.”

“Okay.” Keith’s voice is hollowed and spent as he reluctantly pulls himself away from Shiro’s embrace. “I-- I don’t want to let you down, okay? I want to get this right.”

Shiro smiles. “That’s my boy,” he says, proud. “I love you, Keith.”

Keith’s eyes are still shining as they turn up toward his own. “I love you too.”

***

The moment Keith’s door slides shut behind him, the smile drops from Shiro’s face. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks down the hall, frustrated, palpably unhappy. “Damn it,” he mutters, glancing down at his clipboard as he turns a corner. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

The surveillance room he walks into is filled with disdain. “You’re running out of time, Shirogane,” warns a voice Shiro doesn’t bother trying to place. “We didn’t come all the way out here to watch a senseless nutcase.”

“I know, I’m-- I’m working on it,” Shiro spits. “Give me just a couple of days, alright? He’s so close, he’ll be able to bring his visions into reality and prove that this isn’t some kind of hoax.”

“You’re close to him.” This man he recognizes-- Kolivan. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Shiro glances at the large monitor displaying a live feed of Keith’s room. “He trusts me.”

“He  _ loves  _ you, apparently.”

“Love is a difficult feeling to come by these days.” Shiro rakes a hand through his hair. “It keeps him fighting. Look, just-- watch him. Watch him sleep, watch the way he  _ dreams _ . It’s beautiful.”

The feed shows Keith lying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His breathing is heavy and labored from exertion and as usual, it doesn’t take him long to drift into a state of unconsciousness.

It starts slow. Similar to how it had before it starts with slight distortions of the colors of the walls, the texture of Keith’s surroundings. The boy turns in his sleep and a grin spreads over Shiro’s face, eyes glimmering excitedly. “Come on, Keith,” he says to himself. “Give me something good.”

He does. The slate walls flush black and then burst into brilliant shades of green and blue, clashing together in a frenzied display before settling pensive and restless. The audio picks up Keith’s strained sigh and the colors liven again, swirling up and crawling to the ceiling. They focus in on the light that had sputtered out just before-- Shiro’s mouth dries in awe as they consolidate and flush bright yellow, blinding the camera and everyone watching the feed. One Shiro lowers his hand, he can see glass shards on the ground. Slowly, his gaze rises to the shattered bulb and cracked lampshade.

“Holy fuck,” whispers Shiro.

***

“One, two, three.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut and strains, the veins on his neck bulging slightly but soon he crumples from the effort. “Shiro, I told you, it doesn’t work like that. I can’t focus it.”

“You have to try.” Shiro licks his lips, steps closer to the untouched soda can on the log before them. “I saw the glass on the floor.  _ Something  _ must have happened.”

Keith didn’t know about the surveillance on his room. Shiro preferred it to stay that way. “I… I think you have to back up,” he says slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Of course, Keith. Just hone in on your thoughts, anything to dislodge this.” Shiro obligingly moves back, eyes never leaving Keith’s face, screwed up in concentration. “Last night. Do you remember what you were dreaming of?”

“I…” Keith takes a deep breath. “I don’t. I can’t. It almost felt… blurred? Kinda on purpose?”

That surprises him. “On purpose?” Shiro questions, remembering how the lights had hesitated on the bulb, seemed to communicate with them. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Keith swallows. “But it felt safe. I felt comfortable.”

He jolts back, hands glowing a gentle yellow. “I felt protected,” he says, almost confused, and then the light shoots out.

It misses the can. It zips toward the trunk and then veers, almost too fast for Shiro to follow, the light flaring up before it pulses toward him and sends him flying backward.

He lands ten feet away and immediately, pain blossoms through his chest. His ears are ringing and Shiro cusses, loud and angry as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Jesus fuck,” he mutters, lungs feeling strained and heavy as if he’d inhaled too much smoke, “ _ fuck _ , how did--”

Keith is by him in a heartbeat. “ _ Shiro _ ,” he breathes, “holy shit, Shiro, I-I’m so sorry!”

“How did you do that?” The pain crawling over his back is secondary, the warning weight to his chest back burner to the tremble and glow of Keith’s hands. “H-- that was  _ amazing _ , Keith.”

“Amazing?” demands the other. “How was that amazing? I  _ hurt  _ you.”

“You did something tangible, intentionally, for the first time.” Shiro struggles to sit up. “It-- agh. It was admittedly uncontrolled, but that was still phenomenal. You can harness your will, Keith, that’s… incredible.”

Keith falters. “No, I… I wasn’t trying to,” he says. “I had stopped to think about my dream. I didn’t feel like that was me.”

Shiro recalls the blue and green lights. “You didn’t mean for that to happen?”

“No.” He audibly gulps. “I… maybe it’s self-defense?”

Shiro’s blood runs cold in his veins. “What were you protecting yourself against?” he asks slowly.

“I don’t know. Not you.” Keith’s eyes flick down. “Maybe against… I don’t know. Trying to do something I didn’t want to.”

“Keith, you know I have no say in this.” Shiro grimaces in discomfort as he raises his hand, gently cupping Keith’s cheek. “I don’t want it to be like this, but it is. You have to try and control this.”

“I know.” Keith looks away, breathing in shaky and nervous. “I’m gonna try. I just don’t know why it jumped out at you like that. It’s never…”

“It’s alright, Keith.” Shiro manages a smile. “You’ve made amazing progress today, alright? It’s time you got some more rest, some food in your belly.”

Keith smiles back at him. “Do you want to stay in my room tonight?” he asks, voice soft with promise. Shiro thinks of shattered glass and collapsed lungs and his throat tightens.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” Shiro leans up and kisses him chastely. “Not tonight.”

***

His deadline is tomorrow. Shiro has to push on.

Keith has tears streaming down his cheeks as his gaze turns up to the camera, chest heaving. He’s been at this for so long. “Please, Shiro,” he sobs, “I know you’re listening. I can’t do this anymore.”

Exhaustion clings to every muscle of his body-- it shows when he moves, worn-down and feeble. His hair is a mess and his skin is irritated but still, the mannequin sits untouched before him. A guard moves forward, taser raised, and Keith flinches away from it. “I’ll try,” he hisses, voice strained, “don’t-- don’t hurt--”

The woman takes no heed. It connects with Keith’s neck and he spasms, falling to the floor as his body fails to glow and defend itself. Far from harm, amongst his colleagues, Shiro merely watches.

Keith gives a shuddering whimper. He’s broken and bloodied, and Shiro knows at his first successful attempt he will be greeted with a soothing hug and a warm meal and a hot bath. For now, he has to work. “I’m sorry, Keith,” he says into the mic, voice pained, “I… they’re holding punishments over my head. Please, you have to do this for me.”

“I  _ can’t _ .” Keith’s voice breaks. “I’ve tried, Sh-Shiro, I just  _ can’t _ .”

A baton wielded by a different surveyor cracks down over the back of his head. Shiro cringes just a little as Keith cries out, trying to shimmy away from the touch. “No, no, no--”

_ Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack. _

Keith’s body arches in a horrible way and he  _ screams _ , fingers clawing at the floor. The lights high above him flicker but remain unchanged. “Shiro,” he moans, blood dripping from his lips, “Shiro, Shiro, please--”

A kick to his stomach. “Shiro--”

A jab at his throat. “ _ Shiro _ \--”

A punch to his nose. “ _ Sh _ \--”

The lights swell unexpectedly, an overwhelming cacophony that drowns out everything else and overruns their speaker system. The lights go out, the camera fizzles, and the pulse alone knocks Shiro unconscious.

***

Blood oozes down from Keith’s hands as he lifts himself up on shaky legs. 

There are four bodies around him, mangled and disfigured. There is electricity crackling in his ears and from the tech above him, vision blurred and pink.

Pink. Why is it pink?

Light dances around before his eyes. It’s warm, coddling, and Keith breathes it in.

***

Keith is the first thing on his mind when Shiro resurfaces.

He’s unhurt, strangely enough, but panic fills the air. There is loud chatter, knocked-out power systems, released subjects. Someone is listing off names but Shiro doesn’t care-- only Keith matters. They don’t matter now, they hadn’t mattered since Keith had painted visions under his eyelids when they touched.

People swarm. Shiro can’t find the scientists he had invited since he had been the last one to regain consciousness, closest to the strange blast, but subordinates of his facility hover nervously around him as he stands and tries to make sense of things.

“Where is he?” he slurs. “Where is Keith?”

Time, reality, it all distorts. He finds himself outside, experimentation chamber shot to shit, abandoned by life.

Keith stands on that log. He’s wearing the same white robe that Shiro does and his skin is bursting with brilliant colors. “Keith,” says Shiro, breathlessly.

“Doctor Shirogane,” Keith responds quietly. His voice is calm and soothed, his flesh unabused. “I got help.”

“Help?” Shiro squints against the setting sun at Keith’s back. “From who?”

“The pink light.” Keith smiles, a private little curl of his lips. “But they all protected me.”

The smile vanishes as his eyes flick up. “They protected me against you, Doctor.”

Shiro sighs. “Keith, I never meant--”

“People talk easy when they’re hurting. When they’re scared.” Keith sways slightly. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You used me.”

“I  _ didn’t _ .” Shiro flinches. “You amaze me, Keith, I-I just wanted to--”

“You didn’t want to help me get better. You wanted to weaponize me.” Keith’s eyes, once so beautiful and loving, flood with tears. “I  _ trusted  _ you, Shiro. How could you do this to me?”

He steps forward. “Keith, please--”

“I  _ fucking  _ trusted you!” Keith voice breaks and echoes, furious and hurt. “How could you  _ do this to me _ ?”

The light shoots out, hits Shiro in the gut. He sprawls back and Keith, still sobbing, drops down from the tree trunk. “I’m not even doing anything,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you, but you made me.”

“Keith, please,” Shiro rasps, “I-- I love you. I want to fix this.”

Keith hovers over him, smiling sad and strained as his eyes crinkle. “I love you too, Shiro,” he says, head dropping.

The lights pulse, wash out Shiro’s senses.

There’s silence, and then there’s nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> visit my tumblr @ sheithhs and scream at me to finish this week :/


End file.
